Calamari: The Green Lady
by Crysania
Summary: Zelena pays Rumplestiltskin a visit she likely won't ever forget. In the "Calamari" timeline (if there is such a thing) this fic takes place before A Very Stanley Christmas.


It's late when he comes home. Later than he intends. It's no doubt that Belle…no no, his _little maid_, he must not think of her as anything other than that…has crawled off to bed. He supposes it's possible she's still in the main hall, curled up asleep in front of the fire as she so often is. Not that he allows such a thing.

Ok.

He allows such a thing.

But only when she's done with her chores.

Or at least when the sweepings been done.

Or when she gives him _that look_.

Ok.

Belle reads when Belle wants to and damned if there's anything Rumplestiltskin can do about it.

Which is why, when Rumplestiltskin walks in the door to the hall, he's amazed to find her sitting at the table, a large meal set in front of her.

And she's smiling. Not that _that _is really unusual. But this late at night Belle tends to be asleep or reading or asleep while still thinking she's reading. And the smile is just a little too broad, her eyes a little too bright.

"Rumple!" she shouts when he steps in the door.

No, that's not right.

She's never called him _Rumple_ before. He's always Rumplestiltskin…or sir…or _Dark One_ if she's feeling especially annoyed at him. She once called him a spoiled brat and that one still stung a bit. He stopped playing pranks on her then. _He'll show her who the spoiled brat is_.

"Belle?" he asks and watches as she cocks her head to the side and purses her lips.

"Who else would it be, silly?" she asks, still with her head cocked slightly to the side.

She never calls him _that_.

"Have you been drinking?" It's the only explanation.

She lets out a little giggle.

Now _that_ he's heard before and the sound sends a shiver down his spine. In mere seconds he's upon her, hand wrapped nearly around her throat, his snarling face close to blue eyes that he realizes are just slightly off in color. "Just what the hell have you done with Belle?"

"That's not Belle!" comes the loud booming voice behind him.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Zelena asks as she transforms from the pretty form of his maid to the wide-eyed look of a woman who is rather seriously off-kilter. Rumplestiltskin shudders again.

"That's…" he starts to say but the ridiculous creature interrupts him.

"I'm Stan!" he shouts and moves closer to Zelena who is watching him warily. "You are not Belle!" he shouts as he nears her and one tentacle waves back and forth, finally coming to smack Zelena across the face.

It's not hard. Not hard enough to hurt her at least. But it leaves a sticky trail of greenish goo down the side of her already green face.

"He's Stan," Rumplestiltskin says and somehow manages to keep a straight face.

"You're green!" Stan shouts. And she is, indeed. The green he'd seen spreading across her neck the last time she dared show her face has spread up and across half her face. Jealousy. And it seems to be getting worse. She wants what she can't have.

And that apparently includes Rumplestiltskin.

Zelena spares a dark glance for Stan before moving closer to Rumplestiltskin. She leans against the table, cocks her head again and _now_ he realizes why that gesture seemed so annoyingly familiar. "It really wasn't much fun being in her body. Tiny little thing, isn't she? I'm not even sure how she reaches the table." She giggles then and Rumplestiltskin cringes. "How _do_ you stand to look at her all the time?"

He gapes at her.

And he likely would have turned her into a toad.

But instead there's a movement that he sees out of the corner of his eye and then a loud _thunk_ as something hits Zelena in the side of the head. It's not a tentacle. There's no sticky goo, but he realizes a moment later, as her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses to the ground, that his teapot has become a weapon.

"Good aim, Stan," he says.

"I don't like her!" he shouts.

"What's going on here?" Rumplestiltskin turns to find Belle, the _real_ Belle watching him from the entranceway of the room. He's not sure how he ever thought Zelena/Belle was real Belle. The differences are quite remarkable. Zelena didn't quite get the hair color right, didn't quite manage the same soft smile and that little glint in her eyes that indicates she's trying to hold back laughter.

Zelena's eyes are hard.

Belle's are soft. Soft and sweet and _oh he is in so much trouble_.

"Nothing," Rumplestiltskin says and with a wave of his hand Zelena and all evidence of her presence has disappeared. He gives Belle a slightly sheepish look and tries so very hard to not notice that she's in her nightclothes and not the blue dress she usually wears.

"Really." she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

Not that he notices that either.

"She was green!" Stan shouts.

Belle just taps her foot.

"Crazy lady," Rumplestiltskin mutters. "Not worth your time."

"Really."

"Yes, really." He doesn't mean the words to come out so snappish but sometimes she really pushes her luck. Sometimes he thinks he ought to send her and her ridiculous octopus friend packing. Send them right back to where they came from. Or maybe the Infinite Forest. That ought to teach them some sort of lesson.

But then he's reminded of what his castle was like before her presence.

And Stan did, after all, just knock Zelena unconscious.

Maybe they weren't quite so bad after all.

"Where did you send her?" Belle asks and he just smirks. And points out the window.

Belle gives him one of _those_ looks and wanders over to the window, leaning forward to see if she can figure out what's going on.

He studiously ignores how the nightshirt clings to her backside and how much of her legs are on display. When she leans a little further forward, he has to stifle a groan. Thighs. He can see thighs. And it's almost too much for him. _He is in _so_ much trouble._

He looks away from her, past her, and sees Zelena the same moment Belle does.

"The duck pond?" she asks as the woman climbs out of said pond, black dress clinging to her, red hair sodden. The green doesn't run at least.

He lets out a giggle.

"Rumplestiltskin," Belle admonishes but there's no bite behind the word.

"Crazy lady," he repeats and watches as the woman shouts a bunch of things that he's sure involves his name and a rather large assortment of curse words. And then she points at the castle and he can see her face screwing up in anger. "Duck," Rumplestiltskin says.

"What?" Belle turns toward him and there's a slight furrow between her brows.

"Duck!" he shouts and when she doesn't obey right away, rushes at her and barrels her over. The action surprises even him as they crash to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and faces that are far too close for comfort.

The fireball Zelena hurls at them hits the glass, shattering it and whizzes harmlessly over their heads.

"I said _duck_," Rumplestiltskin mutters and Belle just laughs. He supposes there's little else she could do, trapped between a sorcerer and a hard place.

He tries not to think about what's _really_ hard as he becomes more aware of her soft curves beneath him, at just how lovely her hair smells. _So. Much. Trouble._

"I knew you guys would do it!" Stan shouts above them and the moment is gone. He pushes himself off Belle and makes sure she's not hurt as he helps draw her to her feet. Her face is bright red and her eyes don't quite meet his and he's worried that she's felt…_things_…that perhaps she should not have.

"Crazy lady," he mutters one more time before retreating to his wheel to spin. He can feel Belle's eyes on him and then she moves off.

"I better…go to bed?" Her voice sounds strangely hesitant, but he refuses to meet her eyes, watching the wheel as it starts to turn. Spinning. Spinning is easier. Simpler. Not full of lush curves and hair that smells like vanilla.

"Yes," he finally manages to say. "That would be…" And his voice trails off. _Lovely_? _No…She means _alone, _you fool_.

"Thank you for saving me."

"It's no matter." The response is automatic.

She slips out as he returns to his spinning. He breathes a sigh of relief, though he can still feel her curves pressed against him and can still smell that bit of vanilla that clings to her hair. There are some things even spinning can't make him forget.


End file.
